I could physically see when my words hit him, but he kept quiet, still looking at the photo thoroughly. "Yeah... I recognize it well." His voice broke.
Moments passed, and then minutes, until I couldn't take the silence much longer.
"Please say something." I begged quietly from the other end of the table.
He looked up finally, blinking. As if he forgot where he even was. He quickly wiped a finger just below his eye, and looked over at me.
"Liam's...?" He asked tentatively, not being able to get all the words out.
"Yes." I nodded with a smile. I wasn't able to keep my tears at bay either.
"I need you to say it." He requested softly. "I need to hear it from you."
I nodded slowly, taking a deep breathe. "Michael..." I swallowed. "You're a Father." I said surly. "And Liam's your son."
"My son..." He whispered, sniffling as he looked at the photo again. "I have a son..." He said to himself, a small sob breaking through him. "Oh my God... He's... He's beautiful. So beautiful..." He wiped away another tear. "I have a baby boy..."
I sat and watched him — letting him have his time to absorbed everything. His eyes never left the photo, and even though he was quiet I knew the inside of his head was a jungle of questions and thoughts. He stared down at the photograph, sometimes opening his mouth as if he was going to say something, and then closing it again. I would give him as much time as he needed and then answer all the questions that he had.
I didn't take my eyes off of him, as he memorized every thing in the little snapshot, not having an idea of what he was thinking. I could breath for the first time in a long time, while Michael looked like he was having a hard time catching his. Momentarily, I wondered if it was the same feeling I got when I realized I was having Liam. I was scared, and happy, and shocked to the core... I hoped to God he was happy. But if he were to walk out of the coffee shop, never to talk to me again, I'd understand. I'd be heartbroken, but I'd deserve it.
All of the 'what ifs' that plagued me for the last five years went out the window, and all I could focus on was Michael as he was introduced to his child for the first time. I could deal with the repercussions later, the only thing that mattered was right now. All of the things that would be effected by this could wait.
When he finally spoke again it had felt like hours, when in reality it was about 30 minutes. 30 minutes of complete silence as he tried to process everything. As he realized that everything he had ever thought to be true was wrong. His life was changed - whether he liked it or not. Because that's what children did. They changed you.
"I have a son..." He said again, as if trying to believe it, wiping under his eyes as he grinned down in awe. "Oh my God, I have a son..." his voice broke.
Finally, he sat back, the picture still in his shaking hands as he looked up. "He has your green eyes." He said in wonder, his voice wavering.
I smiled softly, "He has your everything else." I said truthfully.
His eyes widened at my words, as a small proud smile spread across his trembling lips.
I couldn't believe that it was finally out in the open. The secret was no longer a secret anymore... and Michael seemed happy. A little shook to the core, but happy none the less.
"How old is he?" His voice was strained.
"Five." I watched him carefully. "Almost six."
"When's his birthday?" He searched my eyes.
"May 8th, 1989."
"May 8th..." he tested the date out. "This..." He let out a breath. "This is..." he swallowed. "I have a child." He looked up and met my eyes. "Our child." He shook his head, in absolute disbelief. "We... we made that."
Every trace of the man who sat across from me not that long ago was gone, and in his place was someone was someone who was completely unsure and bewildered. The rug had been pulled from under him, and you could tell all the confidence that he had before was gone. He reminded me of exactly what he was... A new Dad. Trying to make sense of the new life he had.
I nodded quickly, ease filling my heart. "Yeah, Michael, we did." I smiled through a breaking voice.
"I'm a Dad." He breathed out, but soon the most gorgeous smile I had ever seen lit up his face, as if he was seeing the world in a whole new perspective. "I'm a Dad..." He said again with pure wonder. "Please... tell me about him." He pleaded, his voice soft as he sniffled.
"What would you like to know?" I asked in relief, my voice matching his. I didn't even realize the tears that were beginning to stream down my face.
"I want to know..." he looked around, searching for lost words. "Everything. What's he like? What does he like? What's his favorite TV show? What's his favorite color? Does he have any allergies --" He trailed, his thoughts all jumbled. "What does he get from me? What does he get from you?" He said in a broken voice, wiping his eyes once again.
I wiped the tears from under my eyes as a million things came popping into my head too. It was bitter sweet hearing him ask all of that. I was ecstatic that he wanted to know, but I felt bad because he was trying to catch up on five years worth of information in the matter of one conversation — and that was my fault.
"Well..." I began, wondering where to Start. "He's smart." I finally said, giving him a watery smile.
"My son's smart?" He repeated, his eyes lighting up.
"He's so smart, Michael. And he's brave, and has such a good heart..." I paused. "He likes flowers a lot. His favorite thing to do is walk in the garden outside our house." My voice began to shake. "He's not like many other little boys... He has a soft heart. He'll cry if he even steps on a bug." I cleared my throat as my vision became blurry. "He's very polite and calm, but can get excited just as easily. And he's so sweet and kind - which he gets from you. But he's also sensitive, and doesn't like competition. That male macho stuff scares him." I laughed some. "He can act very silly, but for his age he's really responsible."
"What else does he get from me...?" He quietly, hanging on every word.
"Your laugh, and your eyes." My voice became choked up. "He looks so much like you, and each day it becomes more obvious. Someday's I think it's going to kill me, but I try not to show it, because when I start crying he starts and... And he's so sensitive, Michael." I had to pause for a moment as my voice began to shake. "He doesn't like confrontation - just like you, and he thinks with his heart and his head; also like you, but I think a little more of his heart than anything." I pursed my lips, trying not to break down. "He loves Star Wars. He'd sit on the couch and watch it all day if I'd let him. He'll pop it in the VCR and rewind his favorite parts for hours. He also loves candy, but hates vegetables and chocolate --"
"That's how you knew that night..." He realized.
I looked up. "Yeah. He's very similar to his Father in that way. Actually, I'm pretty sure he's more of you than he is of me." I smiled, thinking about our little boy. "He makes friends wherever he goes, and doesn't have one enemy in the whole world. He's an old soul... Everyone who meets him says so. He's too smart for his own good, and I know he didn't get that from me so it has to be from you."
Michael giggled softly for the first time, his eyes still red and watery. "That's what people used to say about me when I was a little boy. They said I was born middle aged." He said softly, his voice lost in thought as the sides of his lips turned down the slightest bit.
"That's exactly how Liam is." I licked my dry lips. "Someday's I think he knows more than me."
"What else?" He asked after a moment, looking up at me with keen fascination.
"He's very talented - another thing that he didn't get from me. Halloween is his favorite holiday. Getting candy is only half the fun for him though; the other half is picking out his costume and dressing up. Last year he was a vampire. He also loves to scare people, but he hates being scared. And he's accident prone, which is the one other rare thing he gets from me, but the doctors say he'll grow out of it once he starts to get used to his body." I searched for more. "He's very giving. He'd give his toy to another child if he seen they didn't have one." I played with my knotted fingers on my lap. "He's polite, and his teachers adore him for that. But mostly he's... He's you, Michael."
He stares at me as his eyebrows furrow just a bit, listening to my rambling. A soft expression marring his features as tears begin to form in his eyes yet again.
"I look at him and I see you, and it has scared me everyday for the past 5 and a half years." I pause, looking down again. "He'll look up at me as I hold his hand, or he'll laugh at a silly joke, or make faces in the mirror... and all I can see is his Dad. And it scares the living hell out of me." I confess, taking a breath. "There's just so much character in such a little person that I'm not sure how I was so blessed to have him." I shake my head. "He's the center of my world, and everything that revolves around it. And it's been that way since he was born." I swallowed, looking away. "And it's not always a cake walk - trust me, but I wouldn't change him for the world. And even though I was young, and a single Mother, and had no clue what the hell I was doing half the time, I've never once regretted having him. He's everything to me."
I take in a deep breath, feeling a hundred times lighter after finally confessing everything that had been bottled up for years. All of it coming out effortlessly. Like a damn breaking lose and the water being set free. I felt... relieved. I had no idea I'd feel that way.
Michael was silent for what felt like forever, — we both were, but I didn't blame him. He'd just basically found out that he not only had a son, but he also had a carbon copy running around. It was a lot to take in, so I don't bother him. I sat there silently, letting him process all of it.
I didn't know where this put us, or if there even was an us anymore. But I found myself praying to God that he didn't brush this off as just another feeble attempt at a trap by some girl he once had relations with. And if he chose to pretend this never happened... it would break my heart, but what was I to do? Maybe I deserved it.
"Can I meet him?" He finally asked in a whisper, his face a canvas of emotions hidden behind a well sculptured mask.
My heart almost stopped. "You... You want to meet him?"
He nodded softly. "More than anything I've ever wanted to do in my life." He placed his hands on either side of his head.
"Yes..." I nodded, "Yes, of course!" I began to search for something to write with. "When would you want to?" I asked, expecting him to set a date for next week or month. He was after all a mega-super star. They didn't just have free time opened up all willy nilly.
"Tomorrow." He said through unmoving lips, his voice barely audible. "I'd like to meet Liam tomorrow. Everything else can wait. I'd say tonight, or even today, but I want you and him to get some rest beforehand."
I stopped what I was doing and looked up in surprise, blinking momentarily. "Okay, that sounds perfect." I said, nodding. "Where at?"
"Neverland." He said quietly. "I hope it can be early."
"Any time you want." I looked him deep in the eyes, meaning every word. If he wanted it to be at 3am I'd do it without a second thought.
Not only would Liam be meeting his biological Father, but he'd be meeting him in his domain. Neverland; the King's castle. I could hardly comprehend everything that was going on. It felt like I had been pushed into the twilight zone and everything was rushing towards me like a wave.
Michael and I had just set a date for him to meet his son for the first time... I could hardly believe it.
"Emily..." He said after a moment. "Can I ask you a question?"
"Anything." I said lowly.
He closed his eyes, looking like he was in physical pain. "Why..." He paused to collect his thoughts. "Why did you keep him a secret?"
And there was the crux of our problem. I couldn't hide the fact that I had kept this from him, even when I had multiple chances to come clean.
I bit my bottom lip as fresh tears began to fill my eyes. "I don't know..."
"It's not that you 'don't know'," He interrupted softly, "You were scared to tell me that we had a child, weren't you?" He coaxed gently.
He knew me better than I knew myself.
I nodded wordlessly, too ashamed to even look him in the eyes.
"Did you not want me to be his Father...?" His tried to decipher the inner workings of my mind. "I mean, I'd understand..." His voice broke.
"No!" I yelled, "No! Of course not! I thank God everyday that you're his Dad. There isn't anyone else in the world that I would have chosen to have a baby with — whether he knew each other for one night or a hundred."
I briefly wondered why he'd think that, but I already knew. Just like me - just like everyone else - he had deep emotional insecurities. It didn't matter how famous you were, they would always be there. Taunting you until you believed them. He was human, and he bled, and right now he was hurting like anyone else would.
"Were you ever going to tell me?" His voice was raw. Curious.
I shook my head, not able to meet his eyes. "Probably not. But not for the reasons you think."
"Why then?" He asked softly, and I could see him looking at me from the corner of my eye, even though I was too much of a coward to look back.
"Because you're... you, Michael." I had no other way to describe it. "And I'm..." I sighed.
"You're what?" He coaxed, leaning forward.
"Let's just say I'm someone that I thought you had forgotten about a long time ago." I finally got out. I looked over at him, "I'm not explaining it right. At all."
"That's fine." He conceded after a moment, "We'll have a lot of time to talk."
"I hope so." I confessed.
He nodded as a few seconds of silence casted over us. "Can I... keep this?" He asked, holding the photo in his hands as if it were the most precious thing in the universe.
"Of course." I nodded, "I have a lot."
"Thankyou." He said after a moment, and I knew he meant for more than just the old Polaroid. "Thankyou so much."
"Are you happy?" I asked in a moment of courage.
He thought for a moment, pursing his lips before looking up at me with serious expression. "I don't think there's a word in the English language that comes close to describing how I feel right now."
I searched his face, trying to find some clue to what he was thinking or feeling. Trying to see if there was anger or resentment replacing the joy a jubilation that was just there minutes ago. But if anything, Michael just looked contrite. He was good at hiding things when needed... and considering the daily abuse he got from the press, I'm sure it came in handy for him. But as of right now, I would had killed to had known exactly what he was thinking.
"As for right now..." he cleared his throat as he began to stand. "I think I should be on my way. I... I have a lot of think about."
"I don't want you to go." I said truthfully, standing as he did. I never wanted that. But karma was a bitch, and I had walked out on his twice now. It's not like I could blame him.
He smiled softly. "Right now, I can't stay. Not as long as I'd like to, anyway." He looked up at me with a careful expression. "I have a lot to process."
With one last squeeze of my hand, he let go and began to walk towards the door, only to stop mid way, He looked like he was contemplating something. Finally he made up his mind and walked back towards me, resting his hand at the side of my face and looking down at me - only inches away.
Slowly, he bent down and I felt his lips brush my cheek, lingering for a moment. Just like mine did before I left him that fateful morning in Vegas. I closed my eyes and without another word his touch was suddenly gone, and I was left there alone as I watched him leave.
I stood there as he stepped out of the coffee shop and into the car waiting outside.
For the first time, he was the one who left.